


the village below

by MXXNTAEIL



Series: Road to Abandon, Saved by Luck [2]
Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Character Study, Worldbuilding, basically just, this has been sitting in my drafts for over a year??, this is a mess, yeah ?? kinda anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 03:41:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29128941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MXXNTAEIL/pseuds/MXXNTAEIL
Summary: Hongjoong stood in the center of the crossroad, watching the shadows cast over the village by the looming palace on the hill. It stood proudly with its chipped stone pillars and dull marble, and Hongjoong recalled the stories of the Undead Boy.
Relationships: Kang Yeosang & Kim Hongjoong
Series: Road to Abandon, Saved by Luck [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1538287
Kudos: 2





	the village below

**Author's Note:**

> hi i disappeared for a Year and umm
> 
> school, depression, anxiety, family member getting covid,,, the whole shabang 
> 
> but i have tiktok and twitter now! i post on there occasionally,,, uhhh,,, my quotev and wattpad are a bit inactive Yikes
> 
> i have so many anime and kpop fic drafts and ive gotten into mcyt so if you see a ranboo or haikyuu fic appear no you didn’t you’re blind— but srsly my writing drive has rotted and Died and i can’t only write vaguely emotional drafts and self-projections and im not subjecting Anyone to that 
> 
> oh yeah also this fic was written to walls by alextbh so if you’re interested in like having music while reading,,, there’s that,,, also the real statue garden was written to afterglow by the driver era but the song literally has nothing to do with the fic ?? so i pretend it was written to in the fall by hwasa :)))
> 
> n e way enjoy this long-awaited and abandoned second chapter of statue garden,,, this was the Only draft that lasted longer than a month,,, :D

Hongjoong didn’t realize how his pencil stilled on his paper until his friend across from him snapped his fingers. His eyes caught Yeosang’s, and the boy looked less than impressed. 

“Stop thinking about the garden on the hill,” Yeosang said before returning to his own journal and neatly printing a heading to his notes from what Hongjoong could see. 

“Don’t you think it’s interesting?” Hongjoong says, running his fingers down the side of his journal page until his nail caught underneath it. He felt the weight of the paper in his fingertips, “Supposedly—“

“No, it’s not interesting, and I don’t want to hear about the ‘Undead Boy’ again.”

Hongjoong deflated as Yeosang stilled the conversation. He flipped the page of his journal and began writing again, he didn’t feel up to having his ear chewed off by Yeosang if he continued talking. 

But it was only quiet for a few minutes before Yeosang spoke up.

“Why do you learn the ancient language?” Yeosang says in curiosity, flipping through the pages in his book, writing down a sentence or two of notes in his leather journal when he spots something of his topic. Whatever that topic may be is something Hongjoong doesn’t know. Yeosang’s words were hushed, and even the turning of pages was louder than his voice. Hongjoong barely caught them in between the scratching of his pencil to his own journal pages and the whistle of wind outside the open window. 

They’ve sat in the village library since dawn, as they always had been doing for years. It was a part of their routine, and the village knew if they ever needed them, they could find the two there. 

“Why not learn the ancient language?” said Hongjoong, running his hand along a line of words in his book, translating the script in his journal before marking the page with a tasseled bookmark. The faded print looked lighter in the sunlight, and for once Hongjoong wished it wasn’t so pretty of a day outside. He’d rather have the dull yellow gas light illuminating the pages so he could actually read them rather than squinting at the vaguely shaped letters along the thin paper.

“It has no use,” Yeosang starts to say, but paused when a pen slips off of the table from where he let it rest atop his stack of books. Hongjoong is quick to look back down at his own book when Yeosang turns his stare onto him. “There isn’t one person in the village apart from the church-girls who know it.”

“Well, what if I want to speak to the church-girls without someone overhearing?” Hongjoong could sense Yeosang’s piercing stare boring into him.

“You don’t like girls.”

The boy halts for a fraction of a second. Words swam around his head as he searched for a response, as if a sentence such as that required one. 

He decided on a somewhat safe answer. “Bold assumption, but I have to say you’re not entirely wrong,” Hongjoong says with a light smile playing easily across his features. Yeosang brushed the hair out his own eyes, adjusting his glasses, and gave a knowing hum. 

“As always.” 

They lapsed into a silence, only broken by the scribbling of pencils and pens and the turning of pages. The sun moved across the sky, melting away the morning into afternoon soon enough, and the friends only left when the sun started to dip below the horizon and their eyes began to strain. 

“Have a good evening, boys,” the woman who owned the library said, waving the two off when they crossed her path in the hallway.

“Evening, Ms. Jung,” Yeosang and Hongjoong responded like clockwork. Yeosang held the door open for them, the little bell above the door jingling softly, and they walked out into the gravel path. The village was buzzing with quiet life as most retired for the night, trying to navigate the roads with the dying sunlight as a guide, although they know the roads as well as their own name, but it’s nice to have reassurance sometimes. 

The boys conversed lightly between themselves on the walk home, discussing what they would learn tomorrow or the day after. Hongjoong turned his head to stare upon the hill towering behind the village as Yeosang was talking about his studies. The palace stood tall and proudly, even with the chipped stone pillars and dull white marble, and Hongjoong sighed inwardly. 

They parted ways at the crossroad separating the fields and farmhouses from the oldest neighborhood in the village. Yeosang gave Hongjoong’s shoulder a light squeeze before smiling and traveling left into the fields. If Hongjoong squinted he would be able to see Yeosang’s two story house from where he stood, and he wished he lived there as always. 

It was dark by now, the sun had disappeared ages ago somewhere when the two passed by Uncle’s shop a few roads back. Everyone called Uncle, Uncle, although no one knew who he was related to, and he was a kind old man. When the sun sunk under the hills and the last stripes of orange and pink slipped from the sky, he had handed the two a pouch of sunflower seeds for their journey as they passed his shop. This wasn’t the first time he’d given them a snack, but it had been the first time he’d wished them a farewell.

Something about it hadn’t sat right in Hongjoong’s stomach, but he didn’t bring it up with the old man, and neither did Yeosang. Although, Hongjoong knew Yeosang was worried about it too. They continued walking home, now occasionally picking a few seeds and stuffing the shells into their pockets.

Hongjoong stood in the center of the crossroad, hand still clutching the pouch half empty of seeds, the other grazing over the fabric of his workbag resting on his hip. The wind blew around him, ruffling his black hair, and it was cold.

He was cold, so cold. He sniffed and stopped wishing for a moment. His family would never be as rich as Yeosang’s because they would never be fortunate enough to inherit a farm like theirs. His family would never be as stable as Yeosang’s because they had so many more differences than similarities, and their arguments only made them more different, and it would just never work. 

Hongjoong sighed, breathing out until his lungs began to hurt, before inhaling the cold air. He felt like he was a young boy again, not like a seventeen-year-old with enough issues weighing on his shoulders to rival that of the mayor’s, but an eight-year-old. An eight-year-old who has a best friend named Yeosang and an older sister who treats him as an equal even though she was six years older than him. An eight-year-old with two parents that could pretend to love each other when he was in the room. 

He sighed, deeply.

Hongjoong began to walk right, down the gravel road edged with overgrown grass and white dandelions. It was a routine he was all too familiar with. 

It wasn’t long before he picked the key from his workbag and unlocked the door to his home. His mother was sitting underneath the dull yellow candlelight, her trembling hands sewing a hole in his father’s shirt. His younger brother was nowhere to be seen, but he could hear some soft noise from the kitchen that he could only assume was him. As for Hongjoong’s father, Hongjoong couldn’t care less where he was. 

His mother peered up at him over the rims of her small glasses. It reminded him of Yeosang, only her eyes weren’t alight in amusement at his antics, hers held something unfamiliar in them.

“Change your clothes, son, and retire to bed.” Her voice broke Hongjoong out his thoughts, and she spoke quietly. Hyunsik must be home, Hongjoong realized. 

“Is he here?” 

“Yes, now go, quickly, but be quiet.” She held a finger to her lips as she spoke before returning to her sewing.

“Is he due in for work tonight?” Hongjoong asks although it’s obvious. She nods softly without looking up, and Hongjoong takes it as his cue to go. He slips off his shoes by the door and travels to his shared bedroom, avoiding the more creak-prone floorboards with expertise. 

Hongjoong closes the door behind him and locked it, hoping his brother would have some sensibility to not knock and instead tap on the door when he decides he wants to come in. But in the end, he only leaves it locked for the time it takes him to get changed into more comfortable clothes as he didn’t trust his brother to know what to do.

He sighs, laying his blanket down on the floor, preparing to have another night of relentless thoughts floating through his mind to prevent him from sleeping soundly. He leans against his pillow propped up on the wall, waiting for any sign of movement in the house.

And he waited for some awhile, long enough for him to fall into some sort of sleep. For once, Hongjoong could rest easily, and for once, it was without too much thought.

**Author's Note:**

> whew now that this is off my chest i can literally delete this draft from my notes app and Finally feel like i can start the real second chapter without like,,, the guilt of this abandoned draft holding me back,,, lol
> 
> uhhh i want to start writing again ive missed this and also ive been meaning to continue alc-
> 
> yeehaw also pls give me feedback i adore reading comments <3


End file.
